


Catching Up

by semaphoredrivethru



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Snogging, hprwfqf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-11
Updated: 2005-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 17:30:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semaphoredrivethru/pseuds/semaphoredrivethru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron has always been an early bloomer. Harry has not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catching Up

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2005 hprwfqf. Challenge: #26 – First kiss
> 
> Beta by dierdre_riordhan

Ron Weasley, despite being a later addition to his own family, has always been a bit of an early bloomer. His mum, who always seems to have a calm answer to everything, even for some of the stranger things her children have done, explains it away as Ron just trying to keep up with his brothers. If the twins – who always do everything together – had a growth spurt, it was a safe bet that Ron would be sprouting up an inch or two in the next few months, even when Ron himself was so young that he should be looking under his mum’s arm and not over her shoulder. And unlike Bill and Charlie, who, as their parents gleefully mention at every possible chance, were two of the fattest toddlers that had ever been seen in Ottery St. Catchpole, Ron had quickly outstripped his baby fat to be gangly and whipcord thin nearly as soon as he had begun taking his first tottering steps only a handful of days after his first birthday.

His first display of magic – not something unexpected, given his long line of magical ancestors – was surprising in and of itself, coming years earlier than it had for any of his brothers, or even either of his parents. Not that the incongruity of a three year-old doing magic is what prompts the inevitable embarrassing story (which always, always follows the tale of how Ron’s first words were “Damn boys!”) when Ron’s mum could instead focus on how her youngest son had turned her entire kitchen into a vibrant shade of Chudley Cannon orange that had taken a solid afternoon to get rid of. Percy (in his young yet still obnoxiously pretentious way) had gone on and on for a good couple of years about how Ron was destined to follow in his own brilliant footsteps. 

Ron had gladly broken him of that misconception by turning all of Percy’s robes the same shade of bright orange for the entire first week of Percy’s first year at Hogwarts. It had taken Percy the full school year to get over it, but when he had come home to the Burrow, his small head held high and eyes ridiculously magnified behind the corrective lenses the school nurse had gotten for him, he barely spared a glance for his sniggering seven year-old brother.

Ron’s Hogwarts letter (delivered by a handsome barn owl that had a bright white, heart-shaped face that had somehow, despite the feathers, managed to convey an expression of irritation upon being manhandled by an over-excited eleven year-old boy) came during the first day of the summer holiday, much sooner than the usual mid-summer delivery that the Weasley family had come to expect. But by that point they were mostly accustomed to Ron doing everything at his own, hurried pace; he always ran no matter how his mum shouted at him to slow down, and he always pestered for a chance to use someone – a _nyone’s_ – wand so he could practice doing all the things his brothers could. Or at least, what they said they could, since by the time Ron realised what he was missing out on, Bill and Charlie had moved out and no one else was old enough to do magic outside of school, so Ron really had nothing to go on except what Percy and Fred and George claimed they could do. He was a bit suspicious, though, since they all seemed to insist on doing their summer study work behind closed doors. Not that Ron’s mum and dad really seemed to mind, even when there would be some sort of loud bang followed by strangely-coloured smoke creeping out from under a door. The first time Ron had seen that, he had gone running to his dad, who had just smiled and said that was just something that happened when a young wizard was growing up and still learning things. 

Ron has not blown anything up yet, even if sometimes he can not get it to work right away. That is what Hermione is for, Ron has decided, because if he is an early bloomer, then Hermione is an over-achiever, and she likes to drag everyone along with her. Since it keeps Ron ahead of everyone else, he does not complain too much. Especially since it keeps him with Harry; Harry, who Ron was the first to make friends with, Harry who is just like Ron in every way, except…

If Ron is an early bloomer, then Harry is a late bloomer – a _very_ late bloomer, but that is perfectly natural, Madame Pomfrey says each time she checks Harry’s height only to see that he has only grown a few inches, which is obvious since by this point at the beginning of their Sixth Year, Ron is standing a full head taller than Harry. But Madame Pomfrey says that Harry is likely to sprout up any day now, just as soon as his body catches up to everyone else’s. Ron thinks it has more to do with where Harry has been living all this time, because he _knows_ what those Muggles are like, and he blames them for Harry being so short and skinny, since Harry always seems to eat as though he has never seen so much food in all his life.

But that is not the point about Harry being a late bloomer, and Ron knows it.

When Harry came to Hogwarts, he got a late start on what Ron had been doing all his life, so Ron slowed himself down, because best friends should always do things together. Harry pushes himself to keep up with the magic, but when they fly, Ron can be himself because his mum never let him on anything but a training broom before school, and that is the one area where Harry is without a doubt always going to be better than Ron, so of course Ron pushes himself to keep up there. After all, they _are_ best mates, and they always have been, before anyone else even had a chance.

Ron started noticing girls early on, before most of the other boys saw them as anything other than fluffy, giggling annoyances. He noticed the pretty girls first, then he even noticed Hermione, because she was always _there_ and Ron would have been utterly daft to miss that she was a girl. By the time Fourth Year came around, and Harry was finally starting to notice Cho, Ron had already worked his way through most of the girls in school, before deciding that none of them were really quite what he wanted. Not that he knew that was that was; few boys Ron’s age knew what they wanted. Which is why it was not all that surprising to Ron when he woke up, drenched from the lake and Harry the great hero for saving “the thing he’d miss most,” that Ron bloomed and blossomed and realised that maybe he did not want to be compared to a flower anymore since it was looking like he might just be gay.

Not just gay, Ron realised, but wanting Harry to be gay, too. But Harry was still noticing girls, so Ron just decided to give that up like he had had to give up so many other hopes and dreams that his parents could not afford. Instead, Ron held himself back like always, so Harry could run to catch up until they got on their brooms and got to switch roles again, just like always.

But now here they are, at the start of their Sixth Year, sitting alone in a quiet hallway, both keeping an ear out since it is late at night and Filch is always, always after Harry. They are just sitting on the stone floor that should be cold but never is, not talking anymore, because Harry ran out of Gryffindor Tower earlier, and Ron chased after him until they got here, and Harry held himself back to let Ron catch up. When Ron did, Harry just leaned against the wall and muttered, “Sorry,” before sliding down and of course Ron joined him, which is why they are sitting here now, not really sure what to say.

Harry had touched Ron. Not in a “I want to bend you over the sofa arm and do naughty things to you” kind of way, but definitely not in a “you’re my best mate and I’m just messing with you” kind of way, either; he had reached out and brushed a bit of Ron’s hair out of his face, and Ron just _froze_. So Harry, catching on to what he had done, froze too, thinking Ron was about to hit him.

But instead, Ron just looked at him and asked, “Harry?” like he did not recognise the other boy at all. So Harry got up from the sofa in the common room where they had been sitting and looking at a Quidditch magazine together, and then he just ran out of the room, with Ron hot on his heels.

It has been quiet between them a long time and Ron can not take it anymore, so he turns to Harry and asks him, “Why are you sorry?”

“I shouldn’t have… I mean… I… I’m sorry,” Harry stammers. “I know I’m not supposed to do that. Not to another bloke and certainly not to my best friend.”

Ron just shrugs. “Then I guess I’m sorry, too,” he says lightly, even though his heart is going faster than it has ever gone before, even compared to when he helped Gryffindor actually _win_ a match last year, and back then he had been sure his heart was about to fly out of his chest. But this… this is beyond even that, and Ron draws a shaky breath before he can stop himself, and Harry just looks at him like he has sprouted two more heads and they both look like they belong to Fluffy.

For a while, they just sit there some more, and Ron begins to worry that maybe he heard Harry wrong, and now he has gone and messed things up for good, so he looks up finally. Harry is still looking at him, but now it is more thoughtful than shocked, and before Ron can even start trying to think of anything that does not make him sound utterly dense, Harry leans in and kisses him.

It is a soft press of lips to lips, but instead of pulling away like Ron had always thought Harry would, Harry stays there, waiting for Ron to press back. So Ron does, leaning into the kiss and not really taking note of when he lifted his hands to put one on Harry’s shoulder and the other behind Harry’s neck, but he does dimly register that Harry has mirrored him and he sighs at the same time that Harry sighs.

Their mouths open and against each other, they just sit there, breathing each other’s air, because that is so much better than the alternative of pulling apart (which is entirely unthinkable). Then Harry tilts his head to his right and Ron tilts his to _his_ right, and their mouths do not seal over each other so much as chase each other over the few millimetres they let the other move, never really breaking the contact of their lips. 

It is not sloppy and it is not full of romance and flowers and it is not anything like the other kisses they have seen or had from other people, but it is something neither of them have done before, because it is with each other, and they both move a bit uncertainly until their tongues flicker against each other briefly and Ron finally pulls back with a soft sound that just might have been half a moan. 

Harry looks like he half-expects Ron to hit him, even though Ron was kissing just as much he was, so Ron just smiles and presses their foreheads together. “Someone’s coming,” he says in a whisper, and sure enough, there are footsteps echoing down the hall. 

They stand up and hurry away from whoever was coming and half-walk half-run back to the dorms with shared sideways looks and goofy grins on their faces, and their feet falling in time to a cadence that only they can hear.

**Author's Note:**

> Every time I read this I want to go back in and put in contractions. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. *shameface*


End file.
